As I don the voluminous covering, I become aware of my body in ways that I haven't been in a long time. Masturbating on a regular basis is the minimum level of sexuality needed for my survival, but it's better than nothing, so my physicality connecting in my own mind to my sexuality happens only occasionally. Every part of me brushes against the cloth, my nipples pinging slightly. It reminds me that I want to be spanked, need to be spanked, and I long to feel the cloth brush against my bottom as it stings and tingles and burns. To be spanked hard, this is also needed for my survival, but I make do when it's not possible to indulge. I want to see my bare red bottom as I turn my head to look behind myself into the mirror. To admire the marks and know that he knows me well enough to know what I want, and cares about me enough to give me what I need.
My new-found awareness of my body makes me even more keenly aware that I am without what I want and need, and that it will still be some time before I can have it. To be pushed down onto a bed, feeling that thrill/panic go through my body just before the belt or the paddle makes contact with my oh so vulnerable bare bottom. To be spanked long enough for my body to relax into it and become relaxed on a level that I have not attained since my last "true" spanking. The thought alone is enough to fuel new fantasies, making me more aware of my pantie-less bottom as it brushes again against the slightly stiff cloth. It makes me smile.